


Advent

by euphemisms



Category: Death Parade (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Canon Fix-It, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-03-21 01:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3671889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphemisms/pseuds/euphemisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm not a selfless person,” Nona says, unapologetic.</p>
<p>You're not a person at all, Chiyuki thinks, but doesn't say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Advent

“Chiyuki.”

The sun was warm on her skin. Around her she could hear the rustle of the wind, and the light scent of flowers in the air. Someone was calling her name.

“Chiyuki.”

That wasn't her name anymore. She'd left “Chiyuki” behind; in the warm, homey scents of her mother's kitchen. On the smooth, cold ice of a skating rink. In the dimly lit corners of a strange bar, somewhere and nowhere.

“Chiyuki.”

She opens her eyes.

* * *

 

 “I'm not a selfless person,” Nona says, unapologetic. _You're not a person at all,_ Chiyuki thinks, but doesn't say. She twirls a lock of dark hair around her finger – the same length, same thickness, same colour as before – for lack of anything better to do. It feels soft and clean. In the background, Nona's sandal taps an irregular beat on the cobbled floor. The lift is taking longer than usual.

“I saw more advances in three months with you around than he's managed in over five years alone. I'm not willing to give that up.” Chiyuki opens her mouth to protest, but Nona doesn't pay her any attention. The scraping sound of the lift's wires is getting louder. It won't be long now. 

“We'll need to renew your body periodically. Just call me when you start flaking and we'll sort you out. It might take a day or so at a time, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem.”

The lift dings, and the doors slide open. To his credit, Clavis only pauses for, at most, a second when he sees her. His jaw twitches, like it wants to drop open but is too aware of how unprofessional that would be. Instead, he just smiles and motions for the two of them to enter the lift.

“Where to, ma'am?” He asks.

Chiyuki inhales sharply, and seizes the chance before Nona can speak. If she doesn't ask now, she never will.

“What if I want to go to reincarnation?” She doesn't flinch, even when Nona turns those large, piercing eyes to fully stare at her. “What if I want to leave?”

In the lingering silence, the two arbiters share a glance; speaking volumes without the use of any words. Then they turn to her – Clavis still smiling, Nona shrugging with an air of nonchalance and something a little self assured.

“You're not a prisoner here. If you _really_ want to go, all you have to do is say so,” Nona says. Her gaze is heavy, and Chiyuki knows if she leaves there will be no coming back. She'd made her peace with that once already, but now there's an alternative right in front of her, she's scared to realise she's hesitating. Her fists clench at her sides, and she wills herself not to look away. “I had presumed, however, you might want something different.”

The silence lasts a little too long to be comfortable.

Clavis inclines his head towards her, as polite and courteous as ever. “Well then, Miss Chiyuki. Which floor would you like to go to?”

Chiyuki opens her mouth, but the words catch in the back of her throat. She shuts it again with a click, and purses her lips; breathing deeply through her nose to get both her nerves and her temper under control.

“... Floor fifteen.”

* * *

 

 She'd never seen Decim drop anything, not in the three months she'd worked at Quindecim. He was precise in most things he did – from explaining game rules, and dealing with unruly guests, to handling all the liquor bottles and delicate cocktail glasses he used for the drinks he made. 

“Honestly.” Nona watches from her perch at the bar as Chiyuki gathers up the last few pieces of broken glass that had skittered across the floor. It had been one of those heavy whiskey tumblers, so when it had hit the ground the glass had ricocheted further than Chiyuki thought was physically possible. “You're acting like you've seen a ghost.”

Chiyuki doesn't comment. And if Decim sets the cocktail he'd just finished making down with a little more force than necessary, she doesn't comment on that either. She brushes the larger pieces of glass into the plastic dust tray she'd found behind the bar and moves to dispose of them as safely as possible.

Nona arches an eyebrow pointedly, but accepts her drink anyway.

They fall back into a pattern quicker than she'd expected. At first, there was a lingering sense of awkwardness. It was to be expected, seeing someone you never thought you'd see again. But Chiyuki wasn't about to let that awkwardness last. She throws herself into old patterns and routines. Her room is unchanged, and she moves back in like she's never been gone. Her closet is full of clothes again, most the same as before. Some are different – neat black trousers, and fitted shirts with three-quarter sleeves. A little change in amongst the familiar.

It takes patience, but Chiyuki has no where else to be and plenty to spare. She didn't know how long she'd been gone, but it had been long enough that she could see the little changes that had occurred in Decim since she'd left. He was quiet, but perhaps not as guarded. At least, she didn't think so. He smiled more often – often small, unsure little things, but they were always sincere.

He'd finally directed one at her after a long day consisting of guest after guest after guest, and far too many games of billiards. She'd felt that same little flutter of warmth in her chest she had before the lift doors had closed on her however long ago, and responded with a mix of embarrassment and happiness, slugging a fist into his arm without any real force. It felt like things had shifted, slipping back into the familiar and comfortable after far too long.

And then he'd _chuckled -_ small, and soft, but definitely laughter – she'd felt her heart thump a little too heavily in her chest.

* * *

 

She saw a lot more memories now. Not all of them: Decim always saw them first and sometimes he would request she not view them afterwards. At first, she'd been insulted. It had felt like she was purposely being left out.

Eventually she notices a pattern – murderers, rapists, the truly dark hearts of humanity. Decim was protecting her, in his own way. They'd argued about it; or rather she'd argued and he'd remained monosyllabic and frustratingly _stubborn_ about it. But she appreciated it as well. She knows to be on her guard if she doesn't receive a guest's memories.

The two guests this time were fairly nondescript. A young man in his early twenties, with short, cropped dark hair, and a smartly dressed businessman in his mid-thirties with a ready, warm smile. They order drinks, ask the usual questions and finally settle down to play a round of bowling. It would all be fairly relaxed, if she'd received any of their memories before their arrival.

The young man curses liberally, and is prone to outbursts when the game doesn't go his way – slamming himself into his seat and sulking at every missed strike. He drinks beer, and eats bar snacks by the handful. But save for the occasional nod of gratitude for a fresh drink, he ignores her. The businessman is calm and collected – he drinks whiskey on the rocks, declines bar snacks and his eyes follow her around the room. His comments to her are pointed and heavy, and their hands brush more than she likes when she hands over fresh drinks.

From somewhere behind her, Chiyuki can feel Decim's eyes watching them – watching the young man bowling a strike; watching the businessman watching her.

She feels the brush of a hand against her leg, fingers swooping upwards in a quick darting motion, grazing up and under the fabric of her skirt in the process. She swings around, raising her drinks tray to crack down sharply on the businessman's hand, only to come face to face with a web of taut, tangled strings instead. The businessman hangs from the ceiling, pinned by his wandering hand.

“I'm terribly sorry.” Decim steps into place beside her. He doesn't look at her, too busy pinning the man on the ceiling with his glare as well as his puppet strings. “Please do not manhandle my assistant. She is not here for your particular brand of enjoyment.”

Chiyuki shuts her eyes, and folds her arms to hold her tray to her chest. Later, once their guests have moved on, she doesn't ask what the businessman had done when he was alive. She doesn't need to know. No matter what either of those men might have done, she is safe.

* * *

 

Decim stops mid conversation, freezing in the way he always did just before receiving an incoming guest's memories. Chiyuki sighs, and spins herself around on her barstool, stretching out her legs for a moment to get some feeling back into them. She's about to hop off the stool and make her way to the elevators to greet them, when Decim's hand snaps forwards and grabs her wrist.

“Stay here.”

She wants to argue, but there's something almost nervous in his tone. For all the emotions he seems to be discovering day by day, she can only recall one or two times he'd sounded panicked. It surprises her enough that she nods in agreement and doesn't move away from the bar. Decim is disappearing around the corner before she can think to question him.

A little put out, Chiyuki moves behind the bar. After a moment, Decim rounds the corner – alone – tearing a solid path towards the phone with no guest in sight. She assumes he's calling Nona, although she can't begin to guess what is causing the tense clench in his jaw. At least, she can't until their guest appears from around the corner.

“Do not send anyone else.”

She can hear Decim talking next to her, but the words are lost to her.

“No, do not send her any memories either.”

The guest is old, but not old enough. Mid sixties, probably. Her hair is flecked with grey and hanging in a neat bob against her jawline. Her face is welcoming and beautiful, but lined with more wrinkles than Chiyuki remembered. Chiyuki opens her mouth to greet the guest, but her words can't make it past the lump in her throat.

 _Her mother_ smiles at her, older, more dignified and definitely without any of her memories. “Is it all right if I take a seat?”

“... Please do.” Chiyuki's voice only wobbles a little.

While her mother pours over drinks options, Chiyuki takes a couple of steps back from the bar. As soon as Decim puts the phone down, she clenches a hand around his wrist. He looks down at her, but doesn't wince when she squeezes it tightly, her nails digging slightly into his skin.

“I don't care what she asks. Don't show her those dolls.” They both glance at the space behind the roulette. Where the unfinished dolls hang behind the wall, ready to intimidate and scare when necessary. “Please.”

She's about to pull her hand away, when it's covered by his larger one. He squeezes once, reassuringly, and brushes his thumb across her knuckles.

“I will not.”

* * *

 

Chiyuki doesn't ask how her mother had died, and her mother doesn't offer up any information. They hold each other tight and close, and they don't speak. Her mother smells nostalgic – scents of home Chiyuki didn't know she missed. They had talked for what felt like hours after she'd remembered: warm memories, sad memories, shared memories. Things they had never been able to tell each other before it was too late. 

Slowly, eventually, they part. Her mother clasps Chiyuki's hands in her own and smooths their thumbs together. She smiles, watery and weak but happy.

“I'm glad I got to see you again, Chi.” She says. Chiyuki sniffs, nods, and pretends she isn't crying. Wordlessly, they wrap their arms around each other again, and hug until it's time for her mother to go.

Her room is quiet and dark, but Chiyuki doesn't sleep. She pulls the quilt off her bed, wraps it around herself and closes her eyes. She has no idea how time works in Quindecim, she realises. Since Nona brought her back, she hasn't had to change bodies, but somehow in the time since her death, judgement and return twenty years had passed in the normal world, and her mother had aged and died. The realisation scares and saddens her.

Her door clicks open, but Chiyuki doesn't look up, even when Decim sits silently next to her on the floor. She just lists sideways, falling to rest against his side. After a moment, Decim shifts and Chiyuki finds herself pressed against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I'm sorry.” Decim begins. Chiyuki feels her shoulders tremble slightly with suppressed tears. “There was no forewarning. I received her memories seconds before she arrived.”

Chiyuki shakes her head, and pretends she isn't smearing make-up and tears into Decim's shirt. Her hands fist into his waistcoat.

“Not your fault.” She manages to say, her voice muffled in his shoulder. Decim's arms move to encircle her waist, and Chiyuki lets herself cry until she has no more tears left. She feels fragile, and heartsick. But she isn't alone.

* * *

 

The memories wash over her in a flood; one set long and fulfilled, the other far, far too short. When Chiyuki's eyes focus again, she is leaning sideways with Decim holding her up. Slowly, she untangles herself from his grasp, patting him reassuringly on the chest. 

“I'm okay.”

Decim nods, and lets her step away. Chiyuki smooths wrinkles from her skirt with her palms, and rounds the bar.

She doesn't know how long she's been here now. Her first “reset” happened only recently, and aside from a little disorientation when she woke up and one slightly agitated, uninformed bartender left waiting for her back in Quindecim (“It was wonderful,” Nona had told her afterwards with a sly smile and a raised glass. “He prowled around like an agitated house cat and polished the entire bar twice. The idiot never thought to just _ask_ when you'd be back.”) it hadn't been half as bad as she'd expected.

Technically, today will be the first judgement in this new _new_ body. Chiyuki's steps slow to a halt in the middle of the room.

“Is something wrong?”

She turns around, hair swishing lightly behind her. Decim gives her a quizzical look, eyes flicking between her and the corridor behind her. The lift hasn't chimed yet, so she still has time. There was something she hadn't done when she first returned here, and there's something she wants to do now.

Placing her hands on the bar, Chiyuki crooks her index finger, beckoning Decim to move closer. He does, and she balances on her tip toes, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She feels his surprised exhale against her cheek.

“I'm back,” she says, with a smile on her face. Decim blinks at her, but when she lowers herself back onto the flats of her feet he leans forward and frames her face with his hands.

“Welcome back.”

He presses his forehead against hers, and Chiyuki can feel rather than see his smile. She raises her hands to cover his, and leans into his touch for a moment, before gently pulling away to go and greet their guests as the lift chimes their arrival.

Her smile refuses to leave her face.


	2. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a cat in the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was resistant to being written...
> 
> But I said I'd write more, so here we are.

There's a cat in the bar.

For a moment, Chiyuki thinks she's still asleep. She rubs her eyes and stares out across the room again. The cat is still there, the stump of its tail swooping lazily back and forth just above the bar stool.

When Decim emerges, infinitely more awake and poised than she is just after waking up, he finds her sat opposite the cat. Her hand is held out, and the cat is sniffing it thoughtfully.

“Ah, Memine.”

Chiyuki blinks at him, and Memine takes the chance to nip lightly at her fingers while she's distracted. It's not painful so much as surprising.

“Memine?”

Decim slides a small dish of water across the bar, stopping it just in front of Memine. The cat stares at him with big, luminescent eyes and dips her head down to lap at the cool drink.

“Yes. You've met her before.”

Chiyuki thinks back; tries to remember meeting a cat at any point in her time in Quindecim. In the corner of her mind she can remember tatami mats, a teenager with light hair in a kimono and a flashy young man singing too loudly to some manufactured pop song. In the background a cat had rolled around, a bandage around her leg as she chased what had looked like a false eyelash with her paws.

She looks back down at Memine. “At Viginti, right?” Memine's eyes watch her, as she continues to sip from the dish of water. “Why is she here instead of up there?”

Decim shrugs, moving to stand next to where Chiyuki is sat. She can see his hand twitch slightly at his side, like he wants to reach out and touch her, but present company (ignoring the fact that present company is a _cat_ ) is stopping him from doing so.

She's wearing one of his shirts, which probably has something to do with it. Decim hadn't said anything when she'd emerged from her room in one of his shirts, rubbing sleep from the corners of her eyes a few days ago. He'd just stared intently at her, and the tips of his ears had gone slightly pink. Chiyuki didn't apologise – his shirts were big and comfortable, and had the same faint tobacco and soap scent that clung to his skin. She'd taken one by accident, and had no plans to give it back.

“Decim?”

He blinks, eyes wide in surprise. “... She's not bound to Viginti, any more than you are to Quindecim,” he says, almost on autopilot. Chiyuki turns away, covering a laugh with her hand. “If she wants to leave, she's allowed to.”

Memine stands, stretching out the length of her spine lethargically. She leaps down from the bar and pads over to one of the sofas in the corner. Chiyuki watches her go, before twisting herself round on her barstool to face Decim.

“Doesn't look like she's going anywhere. Her partner's not going to miss her?”

Decim exhales once, heavily. He sounds frustrated, and like with every other emotion he openly shows her without realising, Chiyuki smiles in the face of it.

“I am sure he'll show up and make it known if he does.” Chiyuki laughs, bright and amused, and accepts the cup of coffee he offers her with a smile.

* * *

 

There's a red head in the bar.

The little black cat in Chiyuki's arms twists, turning her head away from him and burrowing it into Chiyuki's shoulder. It's been maybe a week since Chiyuki had emerged from her room and found Memine perched on a barstool like she owned the place. She's a surprisingly sweet, and unobtrusive presence – watching their judgements with bright, wide eyes and curling up on Chiyuki's lap and purring whenever she has the opportunity.

The slight flaw in the situation is that Memine doesn't seem to care if Chiyuki happens to be curled up with Decim when she decides she wants Chiyuki to scratch behind her ears, but Chiyuki can't complain too much.

The red head sat at the bar is in no way an unobtrusive presence. At all.

The first thing he does is stand up with such force that the bar stool clatters to the ground. The second thing is to start yelling – how the hell was she still here? Why the hell does she have his cat?? And what the hell is she even wearing???

Chiyuki barely has enough time to consider turning around and going back to her room, before Memine is struggling out of her arms, landing on the floor with a yowl and light clatter of paws and Decim is barrelling out of their room with a face like proverbial thunder.

* * *

 “She's wearing his shirt!!”

Nona rolls her eyes so heavily that she's momentarily surprised she can't hear them clatter around in her sockets. She can't believe she got woken up so early for this.

“Oh grow up. Technically you could say she's wearing _your_ shirt as well. It's the same cut, make and size of shirt.”

The result of her words is instantaneous, and quite frankly hilarious. Ginti and Chiyuki go pink, then white, then red in quick succession, and Chiyuki even looks like Nona has personally offended her in every way possible. Decim is more interesting. His face darkens, and the puppet strings still wound menacingly around Ginti's wrists tighten and twang. For a moment Nona wonders if he's going to sling Ginti up from the ceiling again. She wouldn't stop him if he did.

In the midst of everything, Memine sits on the bar, lapping quietly at a saucer of water. Briefly, Nona feels a pang of sympathy for the little cat. They're both innocents wrapped up in the whims of these idiots.

“Did you really come all this way, and make such a scene just for the chance to inform me these two have started sharing their wardrobes?”

Ginti splutters, and tugs his wrists back and forth like it will free him somehow. Decim glowers, and tightens the strings further. If she squints, Nona thinks Ginti's hands might be going a little blue.

“No!” Ginti struggles further, and his hands start going a strange mix of blue and red until Chiyuki lightly places her hand on Decim's arm. He glances at her, then loosens his hold on Ginti's wrists. Interesting. “I was looking for Memine,” Ginti admits, rubbing at the thin lines carved into his wrists.

“Oh. After she ditched you, you mean?”

Memine's tail flicks back and forth, the stubby end batting Nona's arm. Ginti splutters loudly, and annoyingly.

“ _No_ , she _did not_.” Memine stares at Nona. Nona stares back. She wonders if the fact she's sharing an unspoken moment of understanding with a cat means she's overworked or going mad. A day off with a good book and a bottle of wine is seeming like an infinitely preferably idea to playing peace maker here. “She was just... _exploring the area_.”

“For, like, four months.”

Ginti's face is going a beautiful red shade – almost purple. It's _fascinating_. He tries to flail his arms, but just ends up ineffectually swinging back forth a little. After a sharp look from Chiyuki, Decim's strings unwind from Ginti's wrists and the red head drops like a sack of stones. Nona ignores him, dropping off her barstool with a light clacking of heels against stone.

“Well, this has been enlightening.” She dusts off the front of her clothes and fixes Decim with a stare, “I'll leave him in your capable hands. Don't look at me like that,” she adds, as Decim stares flatly at her, “He's not going anywhere until Memine goes with him. I hope you have enough time and patience for two extra guests rather than one.”

She rounds the corner, her hand waving lightly behind her as she vanishes towards the lifts. Chiyuki looks between Ginti sulking on the floor, and Decim, his jaw tight with annoyance, and quietly starts setting up a morning carafe of coffee.

* * *

 

It's like watching a very awkward romance film, Chiyuki thinks. She swings her legs back and forth, tapping the balls of her feet against the wooden shelves behind the bar. Memine is sat on her usual sofa, and Ginti is sat on the opposite end. Every time he shifts a little closer to her, she shuffles away again.

Finally, Memine leaps off the sofa with a huff and pads over to the bar. She leaps up onto Chiyuki's lap, and curls up there, immediately purring. In the background, Ginti sinks down into the sofa, pouting impressively. Chiyuki leans sideways, cupping her hand to her mouth. Decim leans down to let her whisper in his ear.

“Maybe you should talk to him?”

Decim just stares at her, for a little too long and a little too intently. Chiyuki shifts awkwardly, and frowns at him. “What? I'm serious. Something happened here, and he isn't going away until it gets sorted.” Her hand brushes through Memine's short fur absentmindedly. The louder the cat purrs, the more put out Ginti looks. Decim sighs.

“If you think it would help.”

“I do.”

Decim's eyebrow twitches slightly, but he sets down his cloth and rounds the bar to where Ginti is sulking up a storm. Ginti doesn't even look up when Decim's shadow falls over him. In fact, he manages to sink even further into the sofa. Neither of them says anything for a while, until Ginti's frown starts to deepen and finally he snaps:

“ _What_?”

“Did you do something to annoy her?” Decim has never been one to beat around the bush, even without emotions. “She is being very resistant to returning home.”

“I didn't do anything.”

Decim remains silent, staring down at Ginti as intensely as he possibly can. Ginti shifts awkwardly, trying to stare around Decim to catch a glimpse of Memine. Decim shifts to purposely block his view. “... I didn't do anything to her.”

“Ah.”

The silence continues. In the background, Decim can hear Chiyuki sigh a little louder than she usually would, followed by the sound of her feet hitting the ground. A few seconds later, the door to her room opens and shuts. Decim closes his eyes briefly, then moves to sit beside Ginti on the sofa. For a moment, he thinks Ginti is about to throw himself over the opposite arm of the sofa to get away from him.

“What did you do then?” He meets Ginti's suspicious stare with a steady, blank one. “That you didn't do anything to Memine suggests you did something to someone. What was it?”

“...”

Decim shifts, staring down at Ginti. The arbiter looks less like he's sulking, and more like he's lost in deep thought now.

“How did you judge her, in the end?” Ginti looks over sharply and suddenly; and Decim blinks in surprise. Ginti continues, a little more forcibly, when Decim doesn't respond. “The dark haired chick, I mean. I got not clue how she got back here, but everyone knew you eventually sent her on her way. How'd you do it?”

“... Is this to do with the young woman you couldn't judge?”

“Just answer the damn question.”

Decim purses his lips, and thinks. Chiyuki's judgement had been... one of his best and worst judgements. Remembering what had happened wasn't something he tried to do often.

“I... gave her a choice. She could remain dead, or be revived at the expense of someone else's life.” Next to him, Ginti stiffens but Decim ignores him and keeps talking. “She chose not to sacrifice someone else. It is... not a judgement I would choose to do again for many reasons.”

“Why's that?”

“Because humans are inherently selfish creatures. They will always value one life above all others.” He finally looks over at Ginti, curious at the troubled expression on the other arbiter's face. “Sometimes it will be their life, sometimes it will be the life of someone important to them.”

“So that's a bad thing.”

“Is it? Maybe sometimes. But that's where we have to look deeper – are they choosing to live because they're scared of dying? Or at they choosing to live because they want to ease the sadness of the people they love, who they left behind?” He thinks of Chiyuki's mother, crying over the photo of her dead daughter. He thinks of Chiyuki's tears, her apologies and the way she'd spoken: “ _I don't have a choice then._ ”

Ginti frowns, deep and dark. Whatever Decim had said, it appeared to have got through to him.

“Oi. What are you?”

Decim just stares.

“You talk like an arbiter, but think like a human. Just what the hell happened to you? Who are you?”

Ah. That was an easy question to answer.

“I'm Decim.”

There is no response to that. They sit in silence, until Ginti stands up with a mumbled curse and storms out of the bar. Decim doesn't move, revelling in the sudden silence for a while before he slowly stands and moves back to his place at the bar.

* * *

 

There are three people at the bar.

A black haired woman perches on a barstool, one elbow leaning on the polished bar surface. The white shirt she is wearing is too large for her, and bundles at the fold of her arm. Next to her, a small black cat is curled, dozing lightly. Her ears twitch in the direction of whoever is speaking. A red haired man sits on the opposite side of the bar, his large hands stroking systemically through the little cat's fur. It had taken time, and many unwelcome visits, but whatever had driven a wedge between arbiter and his beloved companion seemed to have slowly repaired itself. Decim thinks he's seeing the last phases of its repair.

The air is peaceful, save for the occasional rise of the voices at the bar. Decim isn't sure if they are arguing, or just enthusiastic about their conversation. Memine doesn't stir, so he comes to the conclusion it's probably the latter. He watches them – the easy conversation, the way their presence fills the bar and chases away the cold, sleepy silences he was used to before.

It feels alive, and familiar. Like it had when Chiyuki had first arrived here.

Smiling, Decim turns to the coffee machine and sets up a new carafe, letting the smell flow through Quindecim.


	3. Congress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's talk about sex baby, let's talk about you and me, let's pretend this didn't take me a year plus to write and finish, and let's pretend i'm not still nit picking it.

* * *

 

Chiyuki's eyes bug out of her head, and the wine she was sipping slips down entirely the wrong tube. In between her violent coughs, she feels the flat of Nona's hand slapping at her back.

“E-E-” she sucks in air and coughs again. Nona sighs, and whacks her once more for good measure. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“Is this really worth this sort of spectacle?” Nona leans back in her seat, lifting her own glass and taking a large sip. Wine isn't Chiyuki's preferred drink of choice, but Nona is both self assured and persistent in what she wants. And, as much as she didn't entirely want to admit it, Chiyuki knows she owes the petite woman more than she'll be able to repay in her not-quite-life.

“It's a bit unexpected,” Chiyuki says, sinking back into the sofa cushions. It's quiet in Quindecim today. No guests, other than Nona showing up earlier on with two bottles of wine and a smile that set Chiyuki's nerves on edge. For the first time, Chiyuki wishes they were fully booked for the day. Dealing with the emotional ups and downs of the newly dead seemed preferable to Nona, her prying questions and suddenly insatiable curiosity.

Nona sloshes the dark liquid around in her glass, staring at it intensely. In the background Chiyuki spots Decim slowly return to whatever it was he'd been doing behind the bar all day. There are boxes, and heavy lifting involved, but she doesn't ask any questions. Chiyuki may adore him, but she keeps out of anything to do with Decim's mannequins and her knowledge of high quality liquor isn't enough to fill the smallest shot glass. Decim pauses occasionally, making sure she hasn't started choking again. Chiyuki takes a deep breath, and tries again.

“I didn't even realise that was a possibility.”

“Why wouldn't it be?” Nona sets her glass down and folds her arms across her chest. “Imagine the panic guests would experience if they arrived here and parts of their body were missing, or changed.” She has a point, Chiyuki realises. If she'd arrived here and found her sense of touch or taste or a physical part of her body missing, she would have freaked. “In order to judge guests accurately, we need maintain the illusion they are still alive as long as possible. So, yes. The temporary bodies have as many of the natural human functions as possible, as do ours.”

She pauses, staring at Chiyuki. Then she leans forwards. Chiyuki automatically leans back. “We're more human than a lot of us would like to think. Every one of has the _potential_ to experience lust, greed, gluttony, pride, envy, wrath and sloth, the same as you humans do. It's rare though.”

“I'm not exactly human any more.”

“What are you then?” In the background, Chiyuki is aware that Decim has stopped again and is watching them. She forces herself to relax, until he's satisfied she doesn't need some sort of timely rescue. She _does_ , but if he comes over Nona will drag him into this conversation and Chiyuki isn't sure she can handle that sort of embarrassment right now. So she just shrugs, and Nona smiles in some kind of victory.

“It's for curiosity's sake,” Nona continues. “Monitoring the changes in him--” she tilts her head towards the bar and Chiyuki refuses to let herself look in that direction. She can feel the blood rushing to her face and she wishes Nona would _stop_. “--is important. Anger, sorrow and joy are easy enough, but I want to know if he exhibits any of the less obvious emotions.”

Chiyuki wishes viciously that the sofa would just open up and swallow her whole. The smile on Nona's face is anything but innocent. “And?”

“And you're around him almost twenty four seven. If _anyone_ is capable of monitoring these sorts of changes, you are certainly in the best position to do so.” Finally, Chiyuki gives up and buries her face in her hands.

“Please stop.” Nona laughs, loud and bright like a bell, and pats Chiyuki's shoulder lightly. Then she stands up, picking up her glass and finishing off the rest of the wine in there.

“This has been informative.” Chiyuki groans, refusing to remove her face from its hiding place until Nona is long gone and she can feel Decim's hand, gentle and questioning, press against her back.

 

* * *

 

The thoughts refuse to leave her head, and Chiyuki realises she might hate Nona. Just a little bit. She's not in denial about her feelings – Decim is special, and important. She can't say if it's something quite like love as she's only ever been in love twice: platonic love for her family, and a swell of love when she wore her ice skates for the first time.

But now Chiyuki's _aware_ of him. Moreso than before. He stands next to her at the bar, and she's aware of every move he makes. The warmth of his body, and the brush of his fingers against her wrist. She's hyper aware of every point of contact they have, and she can feel the steady thudding of her heart against her ribcage.

It's terrifying, and exhilarating all at once. And Chiyuki is aware that she's seeking out contact with him more than before. They stand near each other when guests play their games, and once the guests move on, she finds her hand tangling with his. Decim doesn't question it, nor does he pull away. They find themselves on the sofa after a long day of guests; a pile of tangled limbs and soft, slow breathing.

They don't say anything; they just enjoy the quiet and the sounds of each other's breathing.

 

* * *

 

Dealing with children is the hardest part of working in Quindecim. Especially those who died separately to their family members. They show up scared, and remain scared throughout. Their tears are the most difficult to deal with.

“Do you like children?” Decim asks her, as the lift door shuts on a tearful little girl. Chiyuki had held her hands until the last possible moment, pulling away just before the doors closed on her arms.

“I don't mind them,” she replies, watching the lights shift behind the closed doors. Upwards, definitely upwards. They remain silent, and Chiyuki stares at the white kabuki mask over the lift doors until the sounds of the wires moving stops. Decim shifts very slightly and Chiyuki wouldn't have noticed the movement if they hadn't been stood so close.

“Did you ever want children?” Chiyuki turns her head to look at him. Slowly, he turns to meet her stare. His eyes are thoughtful, and curious. She likes seeing those sorts of emotions in them, she realises.

“I...” Did she? “never really thought about it. I didn't consider much about life off the skating rink for a long time.” Until she'd been forced to, that was. Settling down and having a family had been a distant, passing thought compared to her next competition. “What about you?”

Decim looks puzzled. “We see a lot of children come through here,” Chiyuki elaborates, nudging her shoulder against his arm. “You've never felt any parental instincts towards them?”

His reply is short and instantaneous.

“No, I have not.” Then he adds, a little tentatively: “Arbiters cannot have children. We have no desire to have them either.”

For a brief moment, she expects a 'I'm terribly sorry' to tack itself onto the end of his statement, but instead Decim just falls silent.

They stand in that silence – companionable, rather than awkward - until Chiyuki spins on her heel and leans up to plant a firm kiss on Decim's cheek. He blinks, wide eyed and surprised, and lets her drag him by the hand back to the bar. This time it is him who laces their fingers together, rather than the other way around.

 

* * *

 

Chiyuki doesn't know where Decim slept before she came to Quindecim. Back then, she'd never asked the question. It had felt too personal to ask someone she didn't really know, and by the time she was close enough to ask, it was already too late.

Despite all the ideas Nona had worked to plant in her head, when they do find themselves in the same bed, it's platonic. Chiyuki curls into Decim's side, feeling her eyelids grow heavy. She presses her ear to Decim's chest, and feels her own heart twist tightly. Beneath the shell of her ear she can hear the steady thud of a heart beat.

She clutches her fingers into the fabric of his waistcoat tightly.

 

* * *

 

Decim doesn't know what to do with his hands.

Chiyuki sees them out of the corner of her eye, clenching and unclenching a little nervously in the fabric of his trousers. Like he wants to reach up and touch her, but isn't sure where is acceptable to touch.

Slowly, so as not to startle him, Chiyuki shifts her weight so she's leaning against Decim's side – facing him, rather than just sitting next to him. She reaches over and takes his hand in hers. Their fingers lace together instinctively, and she smiles. Just as carefully, she laces their other hands together and rubs circles against the sides of his palms until he relaxes.

Chiyuki presses a light, closed lipped kiss to his jawbone and enjoys the little flutter of surprised breath that rustles her hair. Decim's hands untangle from hers, and hover indecisively in the air between them. She leans forwards, head angling to the side, and kisses him fully on the lips.

He tastes of alcohol, heavy and sharp. She feels his hands settle on her waist, tentative and gentle.

They don't rush things. They have all the time in the world.

 

* * *

 

“Well?”

Nona perches on the edge of her seat. Her appearance, as always, was unannounced and unexpected. She had held a bag of limes in one hand, pitching them at Decim with a vague “you know what to do” when he had arrived to greet her.

On the table in front of them, Chiyuki watches a single drop of condensation liquidise and run down the side of Nona's tumbler. For all her insistence on gin and tonic, Nona has yet to take a sip.

“Well what?”

Nona's lips purse, like she had plucked the wedge of lime from her drink and stuck it in her mouth. It scrunches her pretty face, and leaves Chiyuki with a sense of overwhelming power. For the first time, she realises, she has the advantage over Nona. It isn't a situation she wants to relinquish any time soon.

“You know what I'm talking about.” Nona's fingernail drums an agitated beat on the table in front of her; her eyes flicking between Chiyukia and the bar, where Decim stands cleaning glasses with the same precision and care he shows in most aspects of his not-quite-life. The thought leaves Chiyuki's cheeks turning the faintest hint of pink, and Nona latches onto it like a shark scenting blood. “You _do_. Come on, you have to tell me.”

“He showed some curiosity the other day. Over children and whether or not I wanted any.” Chiyuki's eyes slide sideways, as Nona leans forward to the point that her balance on the chair goes from precarious to dangerous.

“Annnnnnd?”

“And nothing. You asked me to monitor his more subtle emotions, and I did.”

The crashing sound, as Nona deliberately slums forwards out of her chair and half over the table in front of her with a loud and drawn out sound of frustration is enough to startle Decim behind his bar, but not enough to startle him into dropping his now-clean glass. Chiyuki feels oddly proud of him.

“Oh come on, you know what I'm asking!!” Nona raises her head, arm waving in the direction of the bar. Decim has stopped, and is watching Nona with a caution bordering on concern. “I can _see_ something is different, it's almost too obvious!”

She rises from her slumped position and rounds the table in a flurry of motion and clicking heels. Her hands on Chiyuki's shoulders are firm, but not painful.

“Did you, or did you not sleep with him?”

Chiyuki stares back.

“Yes.” The hands on her shoulders tighten. “We were both tired, and my room was way too far away. So we ended up sleeping in the same bed. He's quite the gentleman you know, I woke up to find him curled up on the edge of the bed to give me more room.”

Nona makes a strange, defeated noise – like air being let out of a balloon, and flops back onto the table, using it as a seat. The gin glass stands tall and proud, despite the rattling it is taking, and Nona reaches for it, draining half in one go.

“You're doing this on purpose.”

Chiyuki smiles, her eyes soft and fond. Nona stares at her over the rim of her glass, thoughtful.

“Definitely. A girl needs to keep some secrets around here.”

The look she gets in return is both withering and begrudgingly impressed. Chiyuki decides she'll take it as her first victory against the other woman, for all it's worth. She can feel Decim's eyes still following the two of them. She can feel when he turns his attention away from her and his now heavily drinking boss, back to the rows of bottles and lean glasses behind the counter of the bar.

Nona is right. Some things _are_ different.

 

* * *

 

Chiyuki's skin is pale, but in the dark room Decim's skin looks paler. Like it should feel cold under her finger tips – cold skin, for two cold, not-quite-human beings. But wherever she touches she feels warm skin, and when she presses her ear to his chest she can feel the fluttering thump of a heartbeat.

Artificial and false, but beating all the same. Slow and steady when calm; fast and heavy when excited.

“I'm surprised,” she says. Her voice is the loudest thing in the room, and she can sense it filling every nook and corner. Decim's head shifts slightly on the pillow, eyes bright and sharp as he looks at her. “You were pretty knowledgeable about what to do.”

She can feel her cheeks flushing under that piercing stare.

“It's a compliment,” she adds after a moment, nudging Decim in the ribs with her elbow. His eyes close, and Chiyuki finds her hands wandering to thread through pale locks of hair, slow and soothing.

“There was a book,” he says after a moment or two. Chiyuki blinks. “In the back of the bar, and some modern human magazines. Nona left them there not long after you returned. She recommended I read them some day.”

Her hands still, and after a moment Decim's brow wrinkles slightly. His eyes opens, staring at her as if to question why she stopped.

“Are you telling me,” she shifts, folding her arms across Decim's chest and leaning forwards until their noses touch, “that Nona left you _sex education_ books and copies of _Elle_ in the back of the bar, just in case things ended up like this?”

Decim makes an uncomfortable sound, and Chiyuki can almost feel the heat rising from his face as he blushes. Her laughter starts small, welling up and overwhelming her until she has to bury her face in the junction of his neck to smother the sound. Decim's hands hesitate, but fall to gently rest against her waist through the bed sheets.

The warmth that bubbles up in her chest is nearly overwhelming, and Chiyuki smiles – warm, content, and happy - against his skin.

 


End file.
